


Tradition

by SleepyJirachi



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions, Pocket Monsters: Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon | Pokemon Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon Versions
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Canon Compliant, Character Study, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Lonashipping, Post-Canon, mahinashipping, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28376379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyJirachi/pseuds/SleepyJirachi
Summary: If he’d been asked at that point in life if he ever thought he’d end up like this three years later--content and even feeling some traces of anticipation for the holiday festivities to take place in a few hours--he’d have scoffed and sharply shot the notion down.
Relationships: Gladio | Gladion/Mizuki | Selene (Pokemon Sun & Moon)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Tradition

“Weren’t you the one that said we should sleep early?” The question is an entirely futile mumble of his as he’s willingly urged along the hallway by the petite and yet deceptively strong fingers interlaced with his own. 

(Sensible individuals would have considered near midnight a proper time, even if on the later spectrum, to call it a night. Especially on Christmas eve of all nights. In fact, Gladion is sure that _most_ residents of Alola fall into that category and are tucked into bed by now whether they observe the upcoming holiday or not. The objective simply to get a full eight hours of sleep, although some probably put stock in the tale of a jolly man slipping down their chimneys to leave miracles--a concept that he’d found completely unrealistic even as a child. 

He’d like to consider himself rational. 

But ironically enough, Selene has a habit of happily being out of the ordinary; he’s formed an equal habit of getting swept up in her energy and following suit.) 

“It is still early.” she counters cheekily, dark brown bob bouncing while she practically skips contrarily his own mundane tread. 

“Of course you’d say that.” He sighs, corners of his lips visibly upturned all the same at her antics. Gladion guesses he really should’ve seen that response coming with her being the very definition of a night owl. 

“Besides,” her large eyes glimmer up at him from his side, a toothy grin on her lips that’s radiating an endearing childish excitement, “we can sleep _after_ I’m done surprising you, so you have more reason to look forward to our first Christmas together.” 

_Their first Christmas_. And as if the words weren’t enough to make his chest swell with warmth, the gentle squeeze of his palm was more than enough to complete the job. 

“You’re here. That’s reason enough.”

He looks in her direction just in time to see it--her lips shaping an ‘o’ before forming an even prettier smile that makes being a bit mushy worth it. Her silvery giggle enters the air. 

For the first time in years, Gladion feels hopeful. 

Not so long ago, the coming holiday would have been another square on the calendar to cross out. Just another day to put behind him. It became tradition: twenty four hours of secluding himself in his motel room with only Type:Null for company, willing the clock on the wall to tick him into the sunrise of tomorrow as he wrestled bittersweet childhood memories.

_(A genuine smile from his mother--from **Lusamine** , his father’s boisterous laughter, tacky gift paper being ripped to shreds and littering the floor of their family room, courtesy of himself and Lillie…) _

Worse than the seasonally induced recollections were the emotions that always came. _Always_ , even when he tried his damndest to convince himself he was numb. He hated it: the frustration, anger, sorrow and when he really lapsed in his attempts in suppressing himself, _the longing_. ...but the most crushing was the loneliness. The chill in his chest that refused to go away, that he couldn’t escape no matter what lengths he went to. And Arceus, did he exhaust all of his resources, some decisions made far from his finest moments.

If he’d been asked at that point in life if he ever thought he’d end up like this three years later--content and even feeling some traces of anticipation for the holiday festivities to take place in a few hours--he’d have scoffed and sharply shot the notion down. 

Yet here he is, moseying beside the Champion of Alola, his now girlfriend, in his new living space--a modest single bedroom apartment--and feeling a sense of pride once their footsteps round the corner to the living room. Twinkling multi-colored lights bouncing off dimly lit walls draw his verdant gaze to the project she’d insisted they make the centerpiece of his usually minimalist abode. 

A humble pine, reaching inches over her height, adorned with an assortment of bulbs--yellows, pinks, reds and purples--from its base to the top. Along the way were a few unique trinkets sprinkled between: a piece of the broken face masks from both of their Silvally fastened to a hook, an old Squirtle charm from Kanto that she held dear to her heart, even some silly Alolan Exeggutor keychain that was so bizarre she convinced him that they just _had_ to add it. At the top, a brilliant golden star that he remembers hoisting her up to place (because she’d nearly fallen twice trying to prove she was tall enough). 

The whole decorating process, truthfully, had been some of the most fun he’s had in some time and he’s more thankful than he could say that she’d suggested the idea. 

Both of them now halted in front of the fruits of their labor, he picks up on the sound of her inhaling--it reminded how she’d told him before that one of the best parts of the tree was the smell. He’s willing to concede that there’s some truth to that, having stayed in his living room a little longer than he normally would the past few days. 

She plops herself on the ground, legs crossed and eyes gleaming up at him. A palm pats the ground twice next to her in the face of his raised eyebrow. “Sit.” 

What she’s up to, he has no clue. But the sooner he complies, the sooner he’ll find out, he reasons with himself.

“Alright, now what?” He hums, mimicking her posture. 

“Since this is the first time in a long time that you’re celebrating,” she starts, “I wanted to do something really special with you, something that always used to make me excited when I was younger too.” 

“Oh?” Gladion has always been intrigued when she brings up her childhood--it’s a far cry from his own. Pleasant, filled with love and warmth...

“Every Christmas Eve, my parents and I would go to the tree together before bed and open just one special present that we got for each other. One we wanted to give to each other the most. Those are some of my favorite memories, so I thought,” her arm reaches to grab a medium sized box placed under their tree--one that he swears _hadn’t_ been there earlier--crimson wrapping paper and a jet black bow proudly on top, “I could do that with you tonight.” 

Fondness laces every word. The soft gaze she’s directing towards him, the kindness, the _consideration_ she’s constantly given to him, feels almost overwhelming right now. For her to share a piece of her family with him...

He’s speechless, emeralds widened for a moment but she patiently awaits for him to accept her outstretched offering. For him to compose himself. 

The happiness on her features is contagious, his mouth eventually spreading into a smile that he’s become used to wearing in her presence these days. 

A chuckle leaves him. “You really are amazing, you know that?” And he knows he says it all that time, but it will still never be enough. “Thank you.” Gladion takes the gift into his lap and feels a kiddish thrill he hasn’t felt in years.

“Thank me afterwards.” She winks, clasping her hands. “Now, you've gotta open it!”

“Heh.” His fingers begin ripping through the gift wrap with no trace of delicacy or grace, but it makes her laugh. A cardboard top is revealed and he pops the top open, brows raising in complete surprise at the contents inside. A sack of pokeballs, and what appeared to be...capsules and seals. Arceus, Gladion feels like he’s been overtaken by whatever makes Hau smile ear to ear all the time. 

“Did you really...” 

“Remember when I got invited to Sinnoh earlier this year? I made sure to pick some of these up for you. I know how much you like making an entrance when battling, and seals are perfect for that!” Selene bubbled. 

“Silvally is really going to love popping out of his ball now, although this might give him a little more of an ego.” Gladion’s mind already travels to using the black flame seal in front of him to create an entry like no other. 

“You know what they say: Like trainer like Pokemon.” Emeralds roll, smile still present on his lips--he’s not going to give her the satisfaction of confirming nor denying her claim. 

“Ha _ha_ .” An attempted grumble, but it’s much less menacing than he’d have hoped. The downside of smiling. “Really, though...thank you, Selene. I mean it. This is the best gift I’ve gotten,” _since childhood_ , almost rolls off his lips but instead he opts for, “in a long time.”

“You’re smiling so much, Gladion…” She seemed giddy. “I’m glad you like it! And if this was something fun to you, I was thinking that maybe..” Fingers rise to her hair, strands out of place being pushed behind her ear. “...we could start doing this each year? Like our own little tradition.” 

Setting her gift aside for a moment, his fingers seek hers and give them a squeeze. His answer comes without hesitation. “I’d like that a lot. Maybe we can start thinking of other things to add to that list too.” 

She bobs her head eagerly, squeezing his hand in return and he feels heat threatening his cheeks--old habits die hard, and he glances away in an attempt to will it back. 

“Since you mention it...there is _one_ more thing I’ve been thinking of.” The tone of her voice...there’s something about it. Playful. Plotting. 

His eyes dart to a clock nearby: two minutes to midnight.  
  
“If it’s going to keep us up past midnight, we should hold off on it. You said we need to be up by seven so we can head to your mother’s tomorrow.” 

“It should only keep us up a minute past midnight, but only if you’re not a Slowpoke.” Not that she would let him anyway, having stood, urging him to his feet. Then she’s skipping him back down the hall to his bedroom. 

(He supposes he should be grateful for his room being on the ground floor, else he’d probably get a complaint about them thumping about late in the night.)

Selene’s whims lead them to his bedroom--specifically the doorway. The two of them situated just beneath it, her eyes shining up at him gleefully, expression too _innocent_. He eyes her questioningly, but follows her gaze upward. 

Now, he’s unable to suppress the crimson that burns in his cheeks. 

The berried red and green plant dangles teasingly above him, string anchoring it surely positioned there under his nose in anticipation for this moment. 

“You planned this, didn’t you?” 

“Maybe.” She whispers, stepping closer. “It’d be a good way to start off the holiday, don’t you think, _Gladi_?” 

_Gladi_. The sweet petname for him that she loved using, especially when trying to sway him into letting her have her way. 

“By kissing under a poisonous plant?” Muttered as an arm moves around her waist and he indulges in a prolonged glance at her lips. It doesn’t escape him, the scarlet that dusts across her features.

“Only you would think about that.” Lifting onto the tips of her toes, Selene rests her hands against his chest. “I meant kissing you at midnight to start off the day.” 

There’s an occasion coming up specifically for that, he nearly mentions, but he’ll hold his tongue. The sight of her lashes fluttering shut, waiting for him to meet her halfway causes his heart to flutter. 

Gladion ghosts his thumb across her lips, touch languid, and the realization hits that this moment in itself could count as a _second_ gift, and this time for both of them. 

It’s as he hears the chime of midnight in the distance, that he presses his lips to hers, digits moving to thread in her hair and hold her as close as he can. 

She’s grinning, breathless when they part from one another and a low chuckle leaves his throat. 

“Looks like we’ve found our second tradition.”


End file.
